


Homecoming

by kolachess



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Drug Addiction, Erik is there when the serum wears off, Hallucinations, M/M, Poor Charles, airplane scene, angsty angst, because Erik finally gets it through his thick head, but it's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolachess/pseuds/kolachess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rewrite of the ending of the post-prison break airplane scene. </p>
<p>
  <i>His stomach turned. Mentally, he was disgusted by Charles’s behavior – anyone turning to drugs for help and succumbing to it wasn’t deserving of even pity. But he couldn’t feel that disgust, not even one ounce of it, in his actual being. Because this was Charles. Strong and beautiful Charles and if even Charles could become like this...</i>
</p>
<p>Written for xmen-firstkink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back for xmen-firstkink on LJ. Figured I'd post it over here too after rewatching First Class! Original prompt was:
> 
> 'I want fic where somehow Erik is there when the serum starts wearing off (maybe it happens earlier than in the movie idk) and he panics because he has no idea what's happening and doesn't know about Charles' addiction to the serum and just doesn't understand about Charles' telepathy until now.'
> 
> I'm no biology/chemistry major and don't really understand the details of drug withdrawal symptoms, so a bit of liberty was taken with that. But anyways..cheers!

White.

His face was white. Charles knew, because he could feel the blood draining from his face. He felt the beginning of it since they made their escape from the Pentagon. He felt the cool rush and cold sweat beginning to form on his soon-pallid features, and he could feel the heat of Erik's glare - both accusatory yet brimming with an undercurrent of concern - on him. He clenched his jaws and parried Erik's stare with a harsh one of his own, hoping to force the other's eyes away. Inwardly, Charles snorted. Of course it wouldn't work. This was Erik. So he scoffed audibly instead and turned around to make his way to the cockpit, where he was out of Erik's sight and out of his range of potentially pissing off Charles more than he already did.

Erik was still standing there, half simmering with anger, half lost and confused. With the tether for his focus suddenly snapping, he didn't quite know where to channel all the rush. Even though their exchange was still whirling away in his mind, flashes of words and phrases still echoing around in his head and challenging him to retaliate, another part of him couldn't draw away from the thin layer of sweat that had begun to form on Charles's face.

Erik knew pain. And he could tell when someone else was doing their damned best to not let any of it show on their face. He saw it enough in the mirror on many days. And the last glare that Charles tossed him - well, Erik had also encountered enough frightened humans to know the difference between putting on a strong front and truly being unafraid.

And it irked him that he didn't know why Charles of all people was acting like this now. Irritation, he told himself. Yet he knew he couldn't deny the inkling of concern and worry he still held over the other man's welfare. It was like an instinct. A bad habit that Erik had tried to kill - rather unsuccessfully - over the past decade. He had ten years to contemplate his actions and views, ponder the wellbeing of his people and Charles fucking Xavier. There were many times where the anger burnt out and he was left feeling exhausted, thinking of the things he'd say to his friend to make amends.

All of that completely forgotten the moment he saw Charles in person, and the fool of a man was still adamant about preserving the lives of humans over theirs. Well, that wasn't quite true. He had been placid boarding the plane, actually. Though Charles's naive outlook initially dredged up the dormant anger and frustration, it only pulled them out enough to simmer. He was prepared to try - talk. His time in isolation wasn't without progress, and he'd promised himself that however his views may differ from Charles's, he'd offer him the chance to talk.

But that promise was dropped like a stone of ice the moment he realized what Charles had done to himself - his powers. How could he? How could anyone possibly choose to mute their gift in favor of something so mundanely human? It infuriated him, and he felt betrayed. Of all the things he and Charles had disagreed on, the one thing they didn't was that their mutation was a gift. Whether or not to share that with the public was a different story, but Charles was the first person he connected with who held the same adoration and appreciation for their abilities (not the twisted appreciation like Shaw's). It was a sanctity. To look at his old friend now and learn that the other had traded his telepathic abilities for the ability to walk? Something shattered in Erik.

A quiet but sharp, "Shit, really?" from Hank filtering through the thrum of the mechanics around them snapped him out of his reverie.

Turning his full attention to the cockpit now, he could make out Charles's hand clenching the seat hard enough that his knuckles were white.

Not yet moving from his spot, he shot a quick glance at the other man - Logan? - to see if he had any reaction, but the other simply cocked a brow and gave him an unfriendly look.

A hiss - undoubtedly from Charles, and he saw Charles's hand move to grab his leg. His view was blocked by the entrance of the cockpit, but he couldn't bring himself to move through the archway to check and see what was wrong. His leg twitched in response to the part of him that desperately wanted to go and see if everything - Charles - was ok.

"Charles-" Hank started, sparing a glance at his passenger. He received a grunt in reply. "I don't...dose...really need...bad?" Erik could only catch broken words and phrases past the loud humming of the plane.

"I can't-" Hank said loudly and frantically. Finally, he shoots Erik a worried and desperate look, but before he can form a request of some sort, a pained groan and cut-off whimper from Charles's side of the cockpit spurred Erik into action.

Ducking through the archway, Erik came face to face with a pale and shivering Charles Xavier. Momentarily surprised and horrified at how ill the other looked, he managed to ask a second later, "How-what...Charles?" Receiving no immediate reply from Charles, he turned to Hank. "Is he ill?" he asked in a surprisingly fragile voice. He knelt down gently by Charles's side and brushed back the other man's messy hair, now matted with sweat.

Charles's eyes were screwed shut and his breaths came unevenly. Erik wasn't sure if Charles was aware enough to even register his presence, or if he was simply too busy dealing with the pain to bother with him. The idea of either tugged at his heart.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he placed his hand over the other's and called out again, "Charles?" The telepath still didn't acknowledge his presence. He soon shifted and rested his head against the window, one hand pressed tightly against the glass by his head while the other shifted to massage his lower back.

"Ah-!" he bit off a scream at the onset of a spike of pain.

Erik growled. Not certain of how to help the man clearly in so much pain in front of him, he let his arms flounder uselessly. "Dammit, Hank! What's going on! Why's he hurting so much?" he all but screamed at the pilot, only for fear of adding to Charles's discomfort.

Hank looked torn. Half fearful and half worried, he seemed to fluster with his words. "It's...he's...Charles has got...I'm not sure you should-"

"Hank." Erik was now facing the younger man fully. "Tell me. What is wrong. With Charles. Now," he demanded, letting the metal vibrate around them once more, earning a 'Christ, not again!' from Logan behind them.

"Nothing's wrong..." Hank murmured with a wince.

Erik stared. He glanced back to Charles for a second. "Then how do explain the fact that he's in all this pain now!" Erik thundered.

If Hank had less sense and could spare a full second staring incredulously at Erik, he probably would have. And he would have made out the slight hint of fear buried in the anger and frustration in those storm-grey eyes. "Nothing's wrong!" He spat out on impulse. It wasn't everyday he felt capable of challenging Erik. But years of watching Charles suffer and fall deeper into the vicious cycle of drugs and depression finally bubbled over. Years of seeing and hearing about the woman he loved or maybe still loves turn into a wanted criminal because of the man before him finally tipped the cauldron. "Nothing's wrong because it's finally going back to the way it should be."

Erik frowned. "What do you mean?" A strangled moan followed by audible shallow breaths from Charles stole his attention once more.

A few seconds later of Erik awkwardly attempting to soothe Charles by rubbing his back - a whole lot of good that would do - and clenching his jaw so hard it was grinding heavily on his teeth, Hank finally spoke again. "It's the serum. He...his body needs it."

"What, so he could walk? That still doesn't explain - "

"It's addictive, for one. Being off of it so suddenly...For another, it's..." _his only way of dealing with the pain,_ he doesn't quite say. Hank bit his lip, not quite wanting to admit his mentor's personal and unspoken secret with the man responsible for his condition in the first place.

"It's what?" Erik growled once more. "Just say it straight out, McCoy."

Hank was saved from having to answer by a meek "Erik" coming from a now curious Charles.

"Erik? Is that you?" Charles stared disbelievingly at the other. His brilliant blue eyes searched out every detail of Erik's face, albeit with a glazed and lethargic path. "Oh my friend. You've come home?" he asked almost dreamily, a smile so bright splitting across his features. "I've missed you, my friend," Charles whispered before pulling the other into a hug.

Erik was dumbfounded. He didn't know how to react or what to say with an armful of a delirious Charles Xavier. "Charles-" he said.

"Please don't say this is a dream," Charles suddenly pleaded quietly, pulling away and searching out Erik's eyes. "Please don't...leave...it's always...always too soon. You always leave me too soon," he whispered brokenly, resting his forehead against Erik's shoulder, swaying in his seat and leaning on Erik for support.

"Shit," Hank breathed. "That'll be the hallucinations."

“Halluci—“ Erik started. A sobering moment overtook him. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he ventured to ask, “Has he…has he had a lot of these?”

Hank nodded. “It was...it is bad. It always is,” he spoke matter-of-factly, not noticing the impact his words had on Erik. “Look, it might be better if you just take him to the back and just…go along with it. Pretend with—“ It was then that Hank managed to glance over at Erik and see the toll the news took on him. The sharp and stern features of the man known to the world as Magneto were gone. Instead, he looked weary and worn, a reflection of Charles’s own brokenness.

Hank wisely decided not to say anything. Erik did as he was told a moment later, ushering a delirious Charles to the back of the plane. His stomach turned. Mentally, he was disgusted by Charles’s behavior – anyone turning to drugs for help and succumbing to it wasn’t deserving of even pity. But he couldn’t feel that disgust, not even one ounce of it, in his actual being. Because this was Charles. Strong and beautiful Charles and if even Charles could become like this—

He wanted to cry. For the first time since Charles touched upon that hidden memory.

“Erik? Could you tell Raven to come as well?” Charles shyly requested, innocent smile still playing on a pale face. “I mean, if you’re home, there’s no reason she won’t be coming back, now is there? I knew you both would return one day. Hank kept saying no, but…” he winced and massaged his temples. “…stop that, Erik. You’re thinking much too fast and much too loud for me to keep up…” he murmured.

Erik’s attention snapped to again. “You can hear my thoughts?”

Charles laughed. “Silly Erik. Of course I can hear your thoughts! I’m a telepath, remember?” He then proceeded to find this even more amusing and chuckled to himself even more.

“Charles…” Erik began, uncertain how to tell the other that he was hallucinating, or if he even should at all.

Suddenly, the telepath’s demeanor changed. “Don’t,” he bit out sharply, laced with desperation. “Please don’t,” he begged.

“What—“

“Please don’t tell me this is a dream,” he begged so weakly, it sounded almost half-hearted.

Erik stared, horror coloring his facials. But even that couldn’t prepare him for the words Charles spoke next.

“And if it is…just don’t wake me up. Ever again…You always torture me…always making me wake up, in the end…making me not want to sleep anymore. But then, how do I meet you and Raven?” he confessed unknowingly before falling into silence.

And suddenly it clicked.

_“You gave up your powers so you could walk?”_

_“I gave up my powers so I could s—“_

Sleep.

Dreams. Nightmares. The pain from his injury.

And like a wave from the shores of the Atlantic washing over him in the middle of frigid winter, the startling and sobering realization finally hit him. He closed his eyes and allowed a shuddering breath to shake through him. “I’m sorry, my friend,” Erik whispered hoarsely, kneeling down by Charles’s knees.

“Erik,” Charles began uncertainly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Erik offered a meek smile. Summoning an empty wine bucket from nearby, he floated it till it came to a stop in Charles’s lap.

“It’s alright. I’ll be here,” he assured the other.

And that was a promise he intended to keep.


End file.
